Tumbling into You
by gothamgirl28
Summary: A collection of one shots based on tumblr prompts I received. Each chapter has a different rating.
1. Nightgown

This is based on a prompt sent to me by the Yankee Countess back in October for the last Smut Weekend. It's been 90% done and in my drafts as I've been stick on how much sexytimes I wanted to include. I also misplaced my smut writing mojo. If you want to see the nightgown in question, there's a link on my author page.

Prompt: Nightgown

* * *

London 7 June 1924

Sybil Branson couldn't wait for her husband to get home. Today was their fifth wedding anniversary and he was dropping their three irascible children off at their grandparents' London home. While he did that, she was preparing for their night.

She had already finished taking a bath and was now applying her orchid scented moisturizer to every inch of her body. When she finished, she put on her new piece of lingerie: a peach colored silk and lace chemise. Sybil ordered it from Paris a month ago specifically for her anniversary.

Slipping it on, Sybil smiled at how soft the chemise felt against her skin. It was loose fitting yet still complimented her figure. She turned towards the mirror and smiled. Then she turned around and glimpsed at her reflection, smirking at how see through the material was. Tom's going to love it. She quickly applied dark rose lipstick to complete her look.

She glanced at the clock. She had about ten minutes before Tom returned home. Sybil quickly took out the spice cake she baked and iced earlier that day and two wine glasses, placing both on the dining room table. She then lit several candles in both the dining room and their bedroom.  
She had just returned to the living room when the front door opened. Smiling, she sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs.

Tom began to talk loudly to her as he removed his coat and hat. "Love, your mother arranged dinner for us. Beef bourguignon, gougere, po-" He stopped talking as soon as he saw his wife sitting on the sofa. His mouth dropped open, completely stunned by the sight before him.

Sybil smirked. "I know, Tom. Mama told me she wanted to treat us." She rose from the sofa and sauntered over to him. Then, she rose up on her toes, pressing her body against his, and kissed is cheek. She took the basket of food and turned, sashaying to the kitchen while also giving her husband a tantalizing view of her backside.

Tom sucked in his breath. Minx. Finally regaining his composure, he followed his wife.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked.

He simply nodded, enjoying gazing upon his wife more than anything in that moment.

"Is that new?" Tom asked, gesturing towards her negligee.

"Yes."

"It's very becoming on you, love."

She arched an eyebrow. "Just becoming?"

He smirked and walked up to her. "Fetching." He kissed her eye. "Alluring." He kissed her other eye. "Seductive." He kissed her on the lips, pulling Sybil flush against him.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, with Sybil wrapping her arms around Tom's neck to pull him closer. Both moaned as the kiss deepened. He slipped his tongue into his wife's mouth, his knees weakening when she sucked gently on his tongue.

Soon Tom pulled out of the kiss and began to slowly kiss down Sybil's body. He kissed and nipped at her neck, causing her to moan. As he kissed her neck, Tom thumbed her hardened nipple through the silk material. Descending lower, he sucked on the nipple through the material, making Sybil writhe against him. He turned his attention to the other nipple, again suckling on the stiff peak through the silk of the chemise.

Sybil moaned in response. "Oh Tom!"

As he licked and suckled, Tom slipped a finger into her center, groaning when he felt how wet she was. He pulled out his finger, which displeased Sybil greatly, and maneuvered her onto the table.

Once she was settled, he began to kiss down her body, eventually ending up on his knees before his wife. When he reached the hem of her chemise, he lifted it over his head. He placed a kiss on each of her thighs and then on her slit.

Sybil moaned at his actions, completely caught up in the moment. Tom smiled and plunged his tongue into her core, eliciting another loud moan from Sybil. He continued his ministrations, licking up her slit several times before returning his tongue to her core.

"Oh yes!" Sybil cried. She reached for his left hand, holding it tight as he continued pleasuring her.

Tom squeezed back. Then, smiling wolfishly, he moved up and sucked on her clit.

"To-om," his wife whined out. She felt delightfully overwhelmed by the sensations pulsing through her body. "Don't stop!" she ordered.

Tom momentarily halted his actions to look up at his wife. "I don't plan to." With those words, he dived back into Sybil's core, licking and sucking over and over.

Soon, he saw the signs of Sybil's orgasm approaching. Wanting to make it memorable, Tom redoubled his efforts with his tongue, moving it fast and faster in her core. As he did this, he moved his right hand from the table and began to massage her clit with his fingers, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

Sybil came with a cry. "Tom! Oh God! Tooooooooooom!"

Her body arched up as she came and she felt as though thousands of fireworks were going off in her body. After a minute and a half, Sybil's orgasm began to ease and she fell back onto the table with a sigh.

Tom looked up from between her legs then, a smug smile on his face. On seeing it, Sybil closed her eyes and took several moments to catch her breath.

"You're so full of yourself, Tom," she managed to breath out.

Chuckling, he kissed up her body all the way to her face, planting a gentle kiss on her lips.

Smirking, he replied, "With you as my wife, how can I help being full of my self."

She playfully swatted him then kissed him gently. She was about to say something when her stomach growled.

The couple laughed. Playing with Tom's blue tie, Sybil said, "Let's have dinner in bed."

Tom grinned at her and stood up, helping Sybil to her feet. However, she only had her feet on the ground for a moment before her husband picked her up and playfully threw her over his shoulder.

Sybil shrieked and asked, "What are you doing?"

Starting to walk towards the kitchen, Tom responded, "I'm taking you and that fancy meal your mother arranged for us to our bedroom. You're going to need your energy for the rest of the night and tomorrow morning."

Tom grabbed the basket and Sybil laughed, knowing their fifth wedding anniversary was going to memorable.


	2. Name

This drabble was based on a manip that was posted on tumblr by crystabelshalott last October (the link is in my profile). I was inspired at the time and wrote this.

Rating: K

* * *

Sybil looked at her husband, happily holding the newest addition to their family. Sybbie was standing on his left, clutching Mr. Rabbit and failing to contain her excitement. To his left was Saoirse, looking at her father holding her baby sister, torn between being happy and slightly jealous about the baby in her daddy's arms.

Tom looked up and smiled at his wife. Sybil couldn't help but smile back. She walked into the room and sat down on the bed. Looking at her darlings, she felt her heart swell with love.

Looking at her baby, she said, "Our little one needs a name. Do you have any ideas?"

He looked at his oldest daughter, then at his middle one, before turning back to his wife. Smiling, he answered, "We've got a Sybbie and a Saoirse. How about a Sorcha?"

Sybil laughed. "I love it."


	3. Picnic

This is a picture prompt the Yankee Countess sent me on tumblr back in June. I only recently was able to write the fic and posted it on tumblr. You can find a link to the picture in my profile.

Rating: K+

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18 April 1946

Dr. Sybil Crawley and her beau Tom Branson, formerly Lt. Branson, were walking through the grounds of Downton Abbey, her family's ancestral home, trying to find the perfect spot for a picnic. After searching for a half hour, the couple finally found the perfect spot by the lake. They quickly went about setting up their picnic. Sybil laid out the grey blanket and Tom took the food out of the picnic basket, which the family's cook Mrs. Patmore put together for them.

A half hour later, their bellies full, the young couple was lying on the blanket, their hands clasped and gazing at the beautiful spring sky.

In the midst of the silence, Tom sighed.

Sybil turned her head to look at him and asked, "Anything wrong, darling?"

"No, love. I think I'm the happiest I've been in a long time."

She grinned. "I'm glad, Tom. You've been awfully sad since you returned from Ireland. I thought you had a falling out with your family."

He shook his head. "There was no falling out. They just didn't understand what I'd been through and all I had seen since I enlisted. The blasted censorship of the press basically kept my family and friends in the dark about the war. I realized I couldn't stay in Ireland and I've been mourning that. I'm sorry for worrying you, Syb. I should've told you."

Sybil leaned on top of him and gave him a kiss. "It's alright. You told me now and that's what matters."

He gave her one of his heartwarming half smiles. "I love you."

"I love you too, darling. So very much."

They gazed at each other for a few moments before a devilish grin appeared on Tom's face. He rolled them so he was on top of Sybil and began to tickle her. Sybil squirmed and laughed for several minutes before she was able to grab Tom's hands.

Laughing and panting, they again stared at each other, content as they were.

Tom, again, broke the silence by asking, "Will you marry me, love?"

Beaming and blinking back tears, Sybil laughed before she answered. "It took you long enough to ask! Of course, I'll marry you."

She released his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling Tom in for a kiss.


	4. Escape

This was a picture prompt request from . The link to the picture is in my profile.

Rating: T

* * *

Downton Abbey  
July 1927

"Where are you taking us, Tom? asked Sybil as her beloved husband of eight years guided her away from the family picnic.

"Just on a walk down memory lane, love."

After several minutes, they arrived at a little knoll that was surrounded by trees and was near Sybil's favorite lake on her family's estate. She instantly recognized the location and started to blush.

"Our spot," she whispered.

Tom beamed at his wife, thrilled that he could still surprise her after all of these years.

"I thought that with the children having their cousins to play with and their grandparents to fawn over them, we could sneak away and have some time alone."

Sybil was touched by her husband's thoughtfulness. With three children, it was difficult to find some time alone. Seven year old Michael adored his father and followed him around every spare minute he could. Four year old Rory was going through a clingy phase and kept close to Sybil during the day. Not to mention, their youngest child, eleven month old Saoirse, had just learned to walk and was always prying into cabinets.

She wrapped her arms around her husband and gave him a big hug. "Thank you, darling."

Tom smiled into her shoulder, and then broke the hug to lead her to the light blue blanket he had laid out earlier, as well as to the wine and fruit he had "absconded" with. They settled down and began to eat, each feeding the other strawberries.

A half hour later, with the strawberries gone and both slightly, yet delightfully, tipsy, the couple were lying down on the blanket passionately kissing each other. Tom was feeling particularly amorous, and was slowly moving his hand up Sybil's leg and under her blue skirt.

They were so enraptured with each other they didn't hear Michael and his grandpa Robert calling for them or even the sound of the grass rustling as their son neared their hiding spot. Sybil and Tom were only brought out of their reverie by their son yelling.

"Ugh! They're kissing again!"

"Good God!" shouted Robert.

The couple broke apart, startled at their interruption. On seeing her father and son, Sybil broke out into giggles, instantly seeing the humor in the situation. Tom, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified.

In between her giggles, Sybil told her father and son, "You go on ahead. We need a few minutes."

Both grandfather and grandson turned and stalked away, each disgusted, though for different reasons.

Turning back to her husband, Sybil huskily said, "To be continued later. I'll put Saoirse in the nursery tonight."

With that, she crawled out from under her husband and began to saunter away from him. Tom growled and rose, quickly grabbing the blanket and now empty wine bottle. He chased after his wife, following her giggles back to the picnic.


	5. Alone

This is another pic prompt request fic, this time for Cassiemortmain. Like the others, the link to the pic is in my profile.

Rating: M

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Downton Abbey  
March 1919

Sybil bounded down the main staircase excited to be meeting Tom today on his half day off. Thankfully, her sisters were not around that afternoon. Mary was in London visiting Aunt Rosamund and Edith was driving Granny to visit Lady Ann McNair. With her parents both working on correspondence, the young woman had plenty of time to spend with her fiancé that afternoon.

As Carson held the door open for her, Sybil smiled and said, "Thank you, Carson."

The dour butler replied, "You're welcome, my lady."

Knowing that the butler would still be watching from the door, Sybil turned and walked towards the gardens, planning on to re-route once she was sure that Carson was back in the house. However, that proved to be unnecessary. She had just passed the rose garden when she saw Tom, holding a grey blue blanket, also walking in the gardens. Sybil looked around to see if anyone was watching. Once satisfied no one was around, she briskly walked to Tom, linked their arms, and practically started to drag him into the woods.

Once in the woods, Tom linked arms with Sybil and the quickly hurried to their spot: a beautiful knoll surrounded by trees. No one ever came to this part of the estate and it quickly became their meeting place after their return from their failed elopement.

When they got there, Tom spread the blanket on the ground, tossed his cap to the side, and playfully pulled Sybil on top of him.

"Finally," he pronounced, "we're alone."

Chuckling, his fiancée agreed. "I know! I was thrilled when Granny cajoled Edith into driving her to Lady McNair's."

Wrapping her arms around Tom's neck, she asked, "Where did we leave off last time? Oh yes, I remember."

Sybil leaned into Tom and passionately kissed him, causing him to moan and wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Quickly the kiss became heated and he rolled them so Sybil was beneath him.

He broke the kiss. Tom just looked at Sybil, smiled softly, and then gently nudged her nose. "I can't wait to wake up next to you every morning," he whispered."

"Me to, darling. Me too," Sybil softly replied.

The young couple resumed kissing and soon hands were wandering. Tom began to caress Sybil's breasts, rubbing his thumb across her already aching nipples.

As he continued to kissing and caressing her, his hand moved to her leg and began to slowly inch up Sybil's leg and under her skirt.

He paused to ask, "Is this all right, love?"

"Yes, Tom."

With that, his hand continued upwards and Sybil opened her legs further for him. Tom pulled her silk knickers to the side and rubbed his thumb across her nub, causing Sybil to gasp. He then inserted one finger into her warm center, curling it and sending a pleasant shock through her body.

"Oh Tom!" she yelled.

Tom continued exploring Sybil's body, adding another finger. As he pumped his fingers in and out of her center, he began rubbing her nub in earnest. Sybil moaned as Tom pleasured her and soon came screaming in the middle of the woods.

"Oh God!"

As she came down from her orgasm, Tom held her close and whispered, "I love you."

Chuckling, Sybil replied back, "I love you too."


	6. The Dinner Party

My final update of the day! This is a fic prompt request from . The link to the picture prompt is in my profile.

Rating: T (for suggestive conversation)

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London 1924

Mr. Tom Branson of the _Daily Herald_ entered the drawing room belonging to the Hon. Honoria Brookes and internally sighed as he pulled at the collar of his white tie ensemble. This wasn't his type of affair, but his editor needed him to attend this dinner in his stead.

He grabbed a cocktail off a tray that was presented to him and began to look around the room. It was then Tom saw her.

The woman was standing alone by a side table. She had the most astonishing light blue eyes and dark brown hair that was pinned up. She was wearing a beautiful light green dress and onyx earrings that danced as she moved. She was drinking a cocktail and looking around the room, a look of pure boredom on her face. He knew from looking at her that while she came from this world, she didn't belong to it.

Tom gathered up his courage and approached her. "Good evening. I'm Tom Branson."

He extended his hand out to her to shake. The woman looked him up and down, arched her eyebrow, and smirked. She put her drink down on the side table and shook his hand. "Lady Sybil Crawley."

Tom quirked his eyebrow at finding out she was a lady. He had thought perhaps she was an honourable at most, but lady surprised him.

"What is a reporter for the _Daily Herald_ doing at a dinner party hosted by Honoria Brookes?" Lady Sybil asked.

"Apparently, the Hon. Honoria Brookes is a supporter of the Labour government and my editor needed me to attend in his place. And you, Lady Sybil? Why are you at this dinner party? Especially since you seem to be bored."

Lady Sybil smirked at him. "Aren't you an observant one?"

"It's the duty of any reporter to look beneath the surface to find the truth. And you didn't answer my question."

She sighed. "If you must know, I don't really mingle in society anymore. I was a VAD during the war and continued my work afterwards. I work at the South London Hospital for Women and Children currently. Outside of my work, I volunteer with the Six Points Group. I'm only here as a favor for someone close to me."

Tom was intrigued. Leaning in slightly, he asked, "Who is this person you're close to?"

"A rather insufferable man who is incredibly full of himself."

He gave Lady Sybil his trademark half smile. "Perhaps he's not full of himself, but rather sure of things."

Lady Sybil smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"Oh really you two!" exclaimed Mary. "Is this how you behave at a dinner party? Pretending you two don't know each other."

She looked back and forth at her sister and brother-in-law.

It was her sister who answered. "Oh Mary, we're just having some fun. It makes these evenings ever more entertaining."

Her older sister did not look amused. "You've been married for nearly five years and you have two children. Sybbie and Saoirse are the ones who should be playing pretend, not their parents."

Before she could continue, Honoria Brookes' butler announced that dinner was ready. Matthew came up to escort Mary away from the Bransons, though not before smirking at his best friend. Sybil and Tom linked arms and followed the crowd.

Tom whispered to his wife, "Thank you for coming to this dinner party tonight. I know we usually avoid society gatherings, but my editor couldn't make it."

Sybil squeezed her husband's hand. "It's fine, darling. I get to see Mary and Matthew and it's always fun to play strangers in these situations." She reached up to whisper in Tom's ear, "Besides, the girls are with mama and papa tonight. Perhaps we'll be able to continue are conversation later."

Tom smirked. There were some benefits to these functions after all.


	7. Fever

I wrote this during Lady Sybil Lives Week from a prompt request from Bransonvevo for the angst/hurt & comfort day.

Prompt: fever

Rating: K+

* * *

Dublin  
31 December 1925

Tom trudged home in the cold rain, coughing and snuffling up the street. He felt exhausted, even though he had only worked a half day. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't been the same since the night of the fire at the Provincial Bank of Ireland a few nights before. Sybil and him had gone to an evening performance of Professor Tim at the Abbey Theatre and ate a late dinner at a French café on Dawson Street. They were walking towards Grafton Street hoping to catch a cab back to their flat when they saw the flames coming from the building. The couple hurried over, Sybil falling into nurse mode in case anyone was injured and Tom whipping out his notepad to take notes for an article for his newspaper.

Thankfully, the building was empty and the fire brigade arrived quickly at the scene. Both stayed on the scene until the fire was put out, then returned home to face the angry and worried Cathleen Maguire Branson. It was a night that neither of them would forget anytime soon.

Unfortunately, Tom had developed a persistent cough the next day, which quickly developed into a horrible cold. He turned the corner and saw his building ahead. Using the last stores of energy he had, Tom hurried up the street and up the steps of the building. From there, he staggered up the stairs to his and Sybil's flat.

On opening the door, he was ambushed by his five year old daughter Úna and three year old son Sean, each grabbing a leg. Sybil followed after them, carrying six month old Michael. She started at the sight of her husband. Tom was pale, his nose and eyes were red, and his breathing was labored. More than that, he looked as if he would fall asleep right where he stood.

Taking action, Sybil spoke. " Úna, Sean, why don't you go and play in your room for a bit? Your da looks like he could go for some lunch?"

Úna nodded and answered for both her and her brother. "Yes, mum! Come on, Sean. We'll play with the train Donk gave us for Christmas."

With that, the two children scurried out of the room. Sybil placed the baby in the playpen gifted to them by her Grandmama Levinson and turned towards her husband. Tom knew from the stern expression on her face that she was in Nurse Branson mode. She hurried over to her husband and immediately felt his forehead. He was burning up.

"You have a fever. Go change out of those wet clothes right now. Put your pajamas on. I'm going to ring Dr. Devlin."

Tom sighed. "I'm fine, Syb. There's no need to worry."

Sybil stiffened at his words. "Thomas Francis Branson, you go and change this instant."

Being a fairly smart man, Tom finally listened to his wife and headed for their bedroom. Once there, he began to undress, fumbling through the motions as he began to feel more fatigue. After he finished changing into his pajamas, Tom sat down on the bed. Feeling his exhaustion overtaking him, he laid down and shut his eyes.

Sybil found him there ten minutes later, worried as to why he hadn't returned to the living room. Seeing him asleep, she quickly maneuvered the covers from under him to over him. She kissed his temple and quietly left the room.

Tom was woken an hour later by Sybil and Dr. Devlin. After a twenty minute examination, the doctor diagnosed Tom with influenza and bronchitis.

"You must be careful, Mr. Branson. Your very sick and with your heart murmur, things could take a turn. I recommend bed rest for the next several days. I know you're a nurse, Mrs. Branson. Can you handle taking care of him along with your three children?"

Sybil smiled. "Don't worry, Dr. Devlin. Tom's mother and older sisters all live nearby. I've already rung Margaret, his oldest sister, at her shop. She's arranging to take Úna and Sean for a few days while his mother comes to help me with him and Michael. Between his mother and me, Tom will be well taken care of."

Dr. Devlin, having crossed paths with Catherine Branson on more than one occasion, chuckled at Sybil's words. He packed up his instruments and turned towards his patient. "Good luck, Mr. Branson."

By five o'clock, the oldest two Branson children were safely ensconced in their Aunt Margaret's home above the shop she ran with her husband, their Uncle Kevin. Their grandmother was at their flat, watching their baby brother and making broth while their mother was checking on their father.

Sybil was dismayed to find that Tom's fever was rising, having gone from 101° to 103° in a short amount of time. She was fervently trying to break it, placing a cool, damp cloth on his forehead and constantly replacing it when it became warm.

That was how she spent the night, sitting next to the bed and constantly tending her husband, whether it was replacing the cloth for his fever or rubbing his back as he coughed. At some point in the course of the night, she fell asleep, slumped over the chair and holding Tom's hand.

Sybil was woken in the early morning by Catherine.

"How is he?" the older woman asked.

Sybil felt his forehead before answering. "He still has a fever, but it doesn't seem to be as high as it was several hours ago."

Catherine gave her a small smile. "Why don't you take a hot bath and eat some breakfast? You won't help Tom if you get sick yourself."

Seeing her daughter-in-law hesitate, she added, "I'll watch over him. I have no intention of letting my son leave for the next world before I do."

Sybil smiled at Catherine's words. Rising from her chair and groaning from the pain of sitting awkwardly all night, she asked, "How's Michael? Do you think we should send him to Margaret's as well? I don't want him to catch Tom's illness."

Catherine shrugged. "Perhaps. We'll discuss it later."

In the end, Tom's illness worsened to the point where both women thought Michael would be better off at his aunt's home. An amiable baby, he took to the separation much better than his mother did. However, Sybil didn't have much time to feel guilty as Tom's fever once again rose, reaching 104°.

As she diligently worked with Catherine to break his fever, Sybil felt her resolve begin to crumble. She blinked back tears and held him close to her, running her fingers through his hair. "Please, Tom. You have to get better. I need you. Our children need you. Please, darling."

* * *

Sybil fell asleep that night with Tom in her arms. She was awoken the next morning by a hand caressing her face. Blinking awake, she looked down to find her husband awake and with color back in his face. She smiled at the site of him.

"How long have you been awake?" she softly asked.

"I think for an hour. I was admiring the view," he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

Sybil tried not to grin at his words, but failed.

"Tom!" she laughed out.

"What? I've always said there's nothing better than waking up in the arms of a beautiful woman. And you, love, are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Sybil shook her head. "I see that you are definitely on the mend."

"Thanks to my beautiful nurse."

She blinked back tears. "Oh Tom, I thought I was going to lose you."

She wrapped her arms around him and began to cry, releasing all of the stress and fear from the past several days. Tom brought his hand up and began to gently rub her back, trying to comfort his wife.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, love. But I'm better." He paused to sniff the air. "And hungry for the bacon that's being cooked. Is mam here?"

Through her tears, Sybil began to laugh. Branson men and their love of bacon.

"Yes. She's been helping me take care of you and making sure that I didn't get sick myself."

Tom gave his wife a small smile. "I'm glad she's been here to take care of you."

He moved his head back and forth, straining to hear something. "Are the children still asleep?"

"I sent them to Margaret's, remember."

"What about Michael?"

"I sent him over as well. It was too much taking care of you both and I was afraid he would get sick. Once Dr. Devlin tells us that they can come home, I'll give your sister a ring. But first, I need to call him to come over."

"No need. I already did that," interrupted Catherine, standing in the doorway and looking both relieved and annoyed.

Tom looked up at his mother and smiled. "Thank you, mam."

"No need to thank me, Tommy. I wasn't going to let your fool self die and leave Sybil and the children. Dr. Devlin will be over shortly."

His mother then returned to the kitchen.

After examining Tom, Dr. Devlin told Sybil that the children could return home, provided that the house was given a good cleaning, especially the master bedroom. Sybil nodded in understanding and both she and Catherine, as well as Tom's sister Johanna, spent the day cleaning the flat.

The next morning the three Branson children arrived home. Úna and Sean bounded into their parents bedroom and jumped on the bed, hugging their father tightly.

"I missed you, da," Úna mumbled into Tom's chest.

"Me too," announced Sean.

Tom smiled and wrapped his arms around his oldest two children. "I missed you as well. Did you enjoy staying with your Aunt Margaret?"

"It was all right," Úna said. "Uncle Danny showed me how to use the cash register in the shop and how to change a tire." She hugged her beloved father again. "But it wasn't the same as being here."

Tom smiled and kissed his daughter on her curly head. Sybil walked in at that moment with Michael, who gave a delighted squeal in seeing his da.

Tom held out his arms for his youngest, who excitedly reached out for him. Sybil shook her head at her husband and youngest, but carefully handed the baby to Tom. Michael curled himself into his father's neck and promptly fell asleep. Úna and Sean briefly left the room to grab some toys. On returning, they began to play on the floor for the rest of the day.

Sybil and Catherine checked on their patient and the children regularly, insisting on lunch at half past twelve. On checking on her family at two o'clock, Sybil strolled into the room to find Tom and all three children asleep. Michael was on his father's chest, while Úna and Sean were cuddling their father, each on one side of him.

She smiled at the sight. As quietly as possible, she reversed her steps and shut the door, leaving her family to nap.


	8. Favorite Words

I wrote this for Bransonvevo during Lady Sybil Lives Week.

Prompt: favorite words

Rating: T (for language)

* * *

Sybil waited for the coffee to brew, her blue-grey eyes darting back and forth between the cafetière and the timer on her iPhone as her fingers continuously rapped against the counter. Finally, after what felt like hours, but was in reality only four minutes, the timer went off with a loud oo-ga. She quickly turned off the alarm, and then slowly pressed the plunger down. She leaned in and took a deep sniff of the freshly brewed coffee.

"Ah!" Sybil sighed.

She grabbed her travel mug and carefully poured her coffee into it. After she screwed the lid on tight, Sybil tossed the coffee grounds into the fertilizer bin she made to use in her garden. She grabbed her travel mug and hurried to her study/office to continue working on the translation of Baldassare Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier. She needed to get the first book to her editor in three weeks.

Entering the study, Sybil placed her coffee on the coffee table. She grabbed her pens, pencils, notebook, Italian dictionary, and the actual book off her desk and placed them next to the coffee. Then she took the throw pillows off of the couch and tossed them on the floor, plopping down onto one. Opening the book, she picked up where she had left off the night before.

A half hour later, Sybil was reading out loud a passage as she translated it.

"Ma avendo io già più volte pensato meco onde nasca questa grazia, lasciando quegli che dalle stelle l'hanno, trovo una regola universalissima, la qual mi par valer circa questo in tutte le cose umane che si facciano o dicano più che alcuna altra: e ciò è fuggir quanto più si può, e come un asperissimo e pericoloso scoglio, la afettazione; e, per dir forse una nuova parola, usar in ogni cosa una certa sprezzatura, che nasconda l'arte, e dimostri, ciò che si fa e dice venir fatto senza fatica e quasi senza pensarvi."

She scribbled away in her notebook, marking where she was unsure of which English language word to use or if there was no English language equivalent. She reached for her coffee and took a swig. Sybil rubbed her eyes and returned to working.

At some point while she plodded away, she heard the house phone ring. Not wanting to break her flow, Sybil ignored it. They can leave a message on the answering machine.

Hours passed as Sybil continue translating The Book of the Courtier. It was nearing 2 pm when her body told her to stop and get something to eat. Opening the door, she was hit by the pleasant smell of garlic. She smiled and followed the scent to the kitchen.

Sybil grinned when she saw her husband Tom in the kitchen cutting into what looked like pizza, but not like any pizza she had seen in her life.

"What's that?" she asked.

Tom turned and smiled. "It's a pizzolo from a new restaurant near work, Sciurtinu. It's basically two pizzas one on top of the other. This one is filled with cheese and pepperoncini. I also have a sweet one filled with honey and sesame seeds. Want to try it?"

"Yes. I'm famished. I haven't eaten in hours."

Her husband handed her a slice. "Here you go, love."

Sybil took a bite and made a sound that could only be described as orgasmic.

Tom chuckled. "I take it that you like it."

"I do. The crust isn't thick and the heat from the pepperoncini isn't overpowering. And is this fresh cheese?"

"It is. I talked briefly with the owner while I waited for the food. His grandmother was from Sortino, or Sciurtinu, in Sicily, and most of the recipes are hers. In fact, he imports the honey from Sortino. The honey in our sweet pizzolo is orange honey."

"Do they have other dishes besides the pizzolo?"

"Yes."

"We need to go there to eat one day," Sybil said.

Tom chuckled again. "I thought we could go there for our anniversary in two weeks."

Sybil sighed. "I wish I could, Tom, but I have the translation due the week after."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. We've discussed this plenty of times."

"I know, but there was a message on the answering machine from your editor. They're pushing back the release date of the book, so you have more time to work on the translation."

Sybil nearly dropped her slice in surprise. "Why didn't she call me on my phone?"

Tom pointed to the counter. "She did. You left your phone here."

"So I basically stayed inside on this beautiful spring Saturday to do work when I could have been working in my garden or shopping on Portabello Road-"

"Or eating at a Sicilian restaurant with your husband?" Tom interjected. Nodding, he continued, "Yes."

Sybil made a face and shouted, "Fuck!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** My favorite words are coffee, brew, sprezzatura (which doesn't really have an English language equivalent. The closest definition/translation is non-chalance.), senza (Italian for without), Sortino, Sciurtinu, Sicily (my paternal grandmother was born and raised in Sortino and my paternal grandfather was from another village in Sicily), and fuck. I actually say fuck more than I say coffee.


	9. Witchcraft

Another update! This is a Rock the Paranormal AU! prompt fic sent to me by the Yankee Countess.

Prompt: "Those fingers in my hair, that sly come-hither stare..."

Rating: M

* * *

Tom couldn't help staring at the bewitching woman who had just entered the room. She had the palest skin he'd ever seen, black hair with white flowers, and she was wearing a white ball gown. However, it was her lips that mesmerized him. They were full and painted a deep, dark red. _I want to kiss those lips_ , he thought.

At that moment, the woman turned and looked him directly in the eye, fully enchanting him. She gestured for him to come to her. Tom shuffled forward, carefully moving around the other party goers. As he got close, she scampered away, making a come hither movement to Tom. He followed as if in a trance, always a few steps behind.

Soon, Tom found himself alone in the hallway, the mysterious woman nowhere in sight. He silently walked farther down the hall, glancing around for any sight of her. He was passing by the billiard room when he heard a husky voice call out, "Tom."

He turned toward the billiard room door and saw the woman before being pulled into the room. Her lips quickly descended onto Tom's. It took him a moment before he responded, but soon their arms were around each other, roaming over the other's body. As their kiss deepened, Tom heard a hauntingly slow version of an old Frank Sinatra tune begin to play.

 _Those fingers in my hair_  
 _That sly come-hither stare_  
 _That strips my conscience bare_  
 _It's witchcraft_

Her fingers roamed through his hair, gently tugging on the ends. Tom felt himself getting harder with each second in her arms. He had completely surrendered to her charms.

 _And I've got no defense for it_  
 _The heat is too intense for it_  
 _What good would common sense for it do?_

She gently pushed Tom onto the billiard table, and then climbed on top, straddling him. Her hands went to his belt, quickly undoing it and releasing his aching cock. The woman began to slowly stroke his cock, making him harder than he thought possible.

"Please," he gasped.

The woman leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Please what?"

Tom opened his mouth but no words came out.

As she stroked him again, she asked, "What do you need?"

"To be inside of you."

She grinned wickedly at him. She moved the skirt of gown a bit and aligned Tom with her center. Then the mysterious woman guided his cock into her warm center. Both gasped, feeling little sparks igniting all over their bodies. They began to rock together, first slowly but then quickening. Soon, the pair were in a frenzy, aching to reach their climaxes.

Within minutes, the woman began to feel the start of her orgasm. "There. Right there! Oh God!"

She rode Tom even harder. Then she felt herself go over the edge. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, yes!"

Tom followed her over right then. "Oh God!"

The woman collapsed onto Tom's chest. They laid on the billiard table for several minutes, both trying to catch their breaths.

Tom spoke first. "Sybil, you outdid yourself this year. You looked beautiful and mysterious."

She chuckled. "Thank you, darling. I'm glad you like it."

Sybil rose up and gave Tom a chaste kiss. Or what she intended to be chaste. Their kiss reignited their passion. Before they went too far, Sybil broke this kiss.

Smiling, she said, "Let's go home, get out of these clothes, and really have a happy Halloween."

Tom grinned. He picked Sybil up and returned her to the floor. "Let's go, Mrs. Branson!"

He ran ahead to get the car, leaving a laughing Sybil in his wake.


End file.
